Hell on Wheels (Four Horsemen MC Book 6) (2 page)

Voo glanced at Axel. He hadn’t been moved by the tears. “
If
you need help,” Voo said.

She blotted her eyes with the hankie then hiccupped. Charlie placed a hand over her mouth. “Excuse me,” she muttered.

No one could fake a physical response like that. This woman had to be in some sort of trouble.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I’ll get my stuff and go.” Charlie crossed to the bed and grabbed a large gym bag from beneath it. She hefted it over her shoulder and headed for the door.

Voo stood up and grasped her elbow, then hauled her backwards. “We didn’t say you could go. You’ve been stealing from me, from the MC, for weeks.”

“I know. I’m so sorry. I was afraid if I registered with the front desk, he’d track me down. My ex won’t leave me alone and he’s gotten good at stalking me. I try not to leave a trail, but he still finds me, anyway.”

“Yet, you’ve been here for nearly three weeks. If you were scared, you’d be running,” Voo insisted.

She pulled her arm from Voodoo’s grasp. “I know, but I needed to rest. I’m so tired of running, hiding.” Charlie dug in her bag. “I can pay you.”

Voo went for his gun. “
Slowly
.”

“Voodoo!” Axel ground out. “She’s not a threat. Lower your weapon.” He hated to see her pony up the cash but Voo ran Hades, and he didn’t want to interfere in his brother’s business. But they’d have words later on how to treat a lady.

Voo put his pistol in the holster, but he never took his eyes off Charlie. “I don’t trust her.”

She pulled out a worn leather wallet, but kept it close to her body, shielding it with her hands. “How much do I owe?”

 It was a billfold, the kind a man tucked in his back pocket, slim and no frills. It looked a lot like the one Axel owned. Women tended to go for larger jobs with attached change purses and pockets for credit cards, photos, and other sundries.

Voo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Let’s see. We’ve had missing food and wine, and you’ve been here about three weeks. We’ll call it even at a thousand dollars and I’m giving you one hell of a discount.”

Charlie grimaced, but she slipped several fifty dollar bills from the wallet and slapped them into his palm. “There. That’s five hundred and fifty. I’ll get the rest from my…other wallet.”

Strange. Axel had a stack of fifties too.

She started to sort through the bag again, and that’s when Axel noticed the ATM logo on the front pocket of the billfold in her hand. It was unmistakable. The A and M were smaller than the T between them. He’d gotten a Texas A & M wallet just like it from his mom when he’d been in high school, back when he’d had delusions of leaving this outlaw life behind him.

Axel groped his own ass and, sure enough, his back pocket was empty.

Meanwhile, she’d handed Voodoo the rest of the cash and was strolling away, free and clear. Axel raced over and slammed a palm against the door before she could thrust it open.

“Hey!” she said, glowering up at him.

Axel towered over her. He shifted a bit closer to make her nervous. “Aren’t you forgettin’ something?” he asked.

 “Like what?”

“Like Voo’s wallet. I figured you’d want a matching set, since you already lifted mine.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” he drawled, even though he’d bought her innocent act. Axel couldn’t stand liars, never could. Maybe that was because his father, Joker, had been the fucking king of all liars.  Shaking it off, he shot a sideways look at Voo who wore a self-righteous
I
told you so
expression.

Charlie, if that was even her real name, stared up at him.  Axel could almost read the calculations in her eyes as she searched for a way out of this one.

She smirked. “Actually, I’m a great liar, and you bought everything I said. But I shouldn’t have used your wallet. It was too cocky.” She sighed. “Hubris. So, what happens next? You’re calling the popo?”

“Afraid not, darlin’. You done pissed off the wrong kind of men. Check her for a gun and then tie her to a chair,” he ordered Voo, then turned back to her. “You’re about to tell me everything I want to know.”

Chapter Two

Charlie Nash had landed in deep dog poo.

Normally, she had no trouble talking her way out of a tight spot. She did it for a living, for pity’s sake, but it hadn’t worked this time. She’d been blissfully sleeping when she’d heard the two bikers clomping down the sidewalk in their big boots. So she’d hurriedly made the bed and slid beneath it, hoping they’d take a cursory look and be on their way.

No such luck.

And now she was playing Fifty Shades of Hades as Voodoo secured her wrists to the chair with zip ties he’d pulled from the pocket of his jeans. Who runs around with those in their pockets? The taller one, Axel, spun a chair around and straddled it then gave her the hairy eyeball.

“What’s your real name?” Axel asked.

“I told you,” she said through gritted teeth. “Charlie Nash.” For once, she hadn’t been lying.

“I don’t believe you.” He studied her with a scowl.

If he weren’t so angry, she’d consider him hot. He was roughly six and a half feet tall with intense dark eyes. He had something between a beard and a five o’ clock shadow on his cheeks. Axel had wide shoulders, a narrow waist, and muscled thighs. And he was packing heat below the belt. She didn’t mean the pistol he’d tucked into the waist band of those tight jeans either. He had an unmistakable bulge.

His worn leather cut proclaimed him a member of the Four Horsemen MC. During her travels, she’d come across a biker or two and since she’d blown into town, she’d gotten an earful from the townies about the Horsemen.

Dammit.
When she’d discovered she’d inadvertently chosen an outlaw motorcycle club’s hotel and diner to squat in, she should have moved on. Unfortunately, it was the only hotel in Hell, and she needed to keep in close proximity to the police department. Charlie expected a call from Detective Frost in an hour or so. With any luck, she’d be out of this mess by then.

But she didn’t have time to ogle Axel. Charlie needed to talk herself out of this problem.

She addressed Axel’s accusation. “I picked your pocket, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t tell you the truth. And you’re one to talk about fake names. I doubt your parents named you Axel.”

He ignored her dig. “You also said you were an excellent liar.” He turned to the other biker. “Look through her bag and see if you can find a wallet that actually belongs to her.”

Voodoo started pawing through her duffel bag and she barely resisted the urge to bawl him out. But getting into a scuffle with them wouldn’t work. Charlie wasn’t a fighter and never carried a weapon. She didn’t have a prayer against two guys who could bench press her one-handed.

So she shut her mouth and tried to think of a way out of this mess. Usually, that meant using her powers of persuasion. Her father, Scott Nash, had taught her everything she knew about grifting. He’d been an incredible con man and thief. Until he’d abruptly disappeared one night while doing a “big job”.

 The first rule he’d taught her was profile your target. She had to get under Axel’s skin, somehow establish a rapport with him so she could talk him into letting her go. Scott had trained her how to ‘smell’ people, his term for intuiting information about potential targets. He’d taken her to crowded public places as a kid and had her study people. She’d made informed hunches based on age, gender, clothing, demeanor, or any other visible characteristics.

For example, Charlie paid attention to what a person wore. Athletic types wore tennis shoes or running shoes. The fitness vibe would be echoed in their clothing–yoga or sweat pants, shirts that wicked moisture from the body. Business types dressed to impress and the wealthier the person, the higher-end their clothing. It wasn’t a fool-proof system, by any means, but it gave her a cheat sheet. From there, she’d adjust her approach with a mark according to behavioral cues.

Since Axel was the man in charge, Charlie focused on him first. He struck her as a do-gooder type, which was strange given his affiliation with a motorcycle gang.
But life is pretty damn strange.
He’d gotten into her stalker boyfriend sob story. Maybe he tried to make up for illegal activities with good deeds.

And Voodoo? He was a difficult one. Obviously from New Orleans, but he played his cards close to his chest. Charlie couldn’t smell a damn thing useful when it came to him. She’d never want to take him on in a hand of poker.

Voodoo pulled out several wallets she’d painstakingly pickpocketed these past few nights. She knew she should have discarded the wallets sooner. She usually flung them into a dumpster after she’d removed all the greenbacks.
Very sloppy.
Scott would’ve said she deserved to be caught, and he was right.

Voodoo found her wallet eventually. It was a pink and black quilted Vera Bradley one. Like everything else she owned, it was stolen. Charlie hadn’t been able to part with it. It was too damn cute.

“What do you know?” Voo said as he scanned her Illinois driver’s license. “It says Charlene Nash.”

“Told you,” Charlie said, glaring at Axel.

“Could be a fake ID.” Axel took it from Voodoo and stared at it real hard.

“It isn’t.” Look at that. She’d told the truth. Again.

Charlie shifted in her seat uncomfortably. The ties on her hands were tight, and her arms were in an awkward position.

Axel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as though she’d stomped on his very last nerve. “What brings you to Hell? You know, besides thieven’ and lyin’.”

Charlie didn’t discuss her private business with anyone. Yet another lesson from Scott. It would leave her vulnerable. If someone knew her habits, her personal data—

they’d make a great police witness. So, Charlie was
friendly
, but never made
friends
with anyone.

“I can’t tell you, but I steal for a good cause.”

“And what cause might that be? Hmm?” He raised a brow.

Charlie remained silent.

 “Don’t tell me, Princess of Thieves, you’re stealing to pay your brother’s medical bills. Or maybe to feed some poor, starving orphans?”

She let the Robin Hood quip go. “No, I steal to live.” She’d been getting a five-finger discount for as long as she could remember. Scott had taught her how to pick pockets at age seven, and she’d been doing it ever since. Although lately, she’d barely been scraping together enough cash to keep gas in the tank and food in her belly.

“Uh-huh. And why are you in Hell?”

Because I’m talking to you.
“I’ve been sight-seeing,” she said, plucking an idea out of the air. “Pretty town you’ve got here.”

“Oh yeah? I ain’t buyin’ it. What sights are you seeing?” he said, all sarcastic. “The stinky sulfur springs? Maybe the tea room. It ain’t like we got the Alamo here.”

“It has a lot of small-town charm.” She’d been to a lot of towns over the years and she preferred them over big cities. While she’d been born in Chicago, Scott liked to stay on the road. They bounced around the country, a few months here, a few months there. She’d lived in thirteen states by the time he’d disappeared.

“Yeah, and I detect the distinct odor of bullshit.” Axel glanced at his watch. “Much as I’d love to listen to more of your lies, I’m gonna have to cut it short.” He laughed without humor. “I got a meeting with another liar.”

“Beauregard?” Voo asked.

Axel nodded, his brows together and his lips thinned.

 “Bikers have meetings?” she asked. That sounded so straight-laced and corporate. She wondered if they had agendas, too. Maybe with a little tire track logo on the top or something.

Axel pushed a hand through his hair. “Trust me on this one, bikers have a shitload of meetings. It feels like I spend all goddamn day with a gavel in my hand.” He stood up and glanced at his compatriot. “Keep an eye on her.”

“Sorry, Prez, I can’t,” Voo said, glancing at his cell phone. “I have the morning rush coming.”

Axel whipped out his mobile and hit a few buttons. After a minute or so, his phone beeped in reply. “Justice is coming over to babysit. Watch Robin Hood for me until he gets here.”

With that, he took off, and she was left staring at Voodoo, who smirked at her.

Great, left with the enigmatic one she’d been stealing from.
Dammit.

 Voodoo sat down across from her. “Well,
bebette,
looks like you’re going to be our guest for a good long while.”

 “Bebette?”
she asked.

His grin was tinged with a fierce sort of amusement. “It means ‘bug’ or ‘critter’ in Creole.”

“Well, that’s rude.” Charlie had a few names for him, too.
Douchebag
vaulted to the top of the list.

“So is stealing from someone.”

Charlie shrugged. He had a point, so she slumped back in her chair and waited for the newest biker to arrive.

What felt like hours later, another man strode into the room. Like Voodoo and Axel, he was good-looking. So, the Horsemen exclusively recruited hotties. And because Charlie was in a pissy mood, it annoyed her. Somehow, she reasoned it would be easier to talk her way out of this situation if they were all ugly. It didn’t make sense, but that’s how she felt.

While the latest Chippendale made small talk with Voodoo, she scoped him out. He stood about six feet tall with light brown hair and blue eyes. His skin was almost golden. She’d bet he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. Stubble hovered over his lips and across his cheeks. He wore a pair of tight jeans, along with a red t-shirt which peeked from beneath a black hoodie. The hoodie had
Think on your Sins
stitched on the back.

Voo headed out and Justice kept the door open. Charlie glanced at the parking lot longingly. The new biker sat down in the chair across from her. He looked her up and down, but there was nothing sexual in his gaze. He seemed to be sizing her up, deciding how much of a threat she was. “I’m Justice. And it looks like you fucked up real good, Charlie.”